


The River Below

by minutiae



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Witcher - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Mentioned Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: Hello. This is just the first half a flashfic. I wasn't going to finish this, but enough people seemed to enjoy it on tumblr  that I'm sticking it up here just in case I do. <3Anyway. Post-Honorton, Gaetan is not well, with no supplies. He's desperate and needs help. He runs into Letho.please note tags may change if/when i add to it.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	The River Below

Letho crouched below a big tree, carefully field dressing a deer. He’d caught sight of a little moggy trailing him hours ago. He was good, small and sneaky, and quite clever about using shadows. Letho gave him a number of opportunities to attack, even once leaving his back wide open. He was just followed, eyes heavy on his back. He’d ignored the little witcher for the most part after that. He couldn’t tell their motivation out of just silent watching, but he was patient.

He had only intended to hunt a grouse or catch some fish this morning, his supplies starting to run low. The intent had mostly been to stretch his legs, the silence and stillness of going to ground frustrating. He’d expected a quiet morning out before retreating again to his caves. Letho had five books in his pack, and had already read them all twice just this week.

Ignoring the moggy trailing him had been his intention as soon as he’d confirmed that an attack was unlikely. It was easy enough to do, the small feral shadow creeping at the distance. Letho was patient, and could wait until he tired or left before returning to the caves. Those decisions changed when he caught the sour scent of desperation on one errant breeze.

He must be getting soft. Weeks he’d spent as the White Wolf’s dog, helping his crazy witch until one day she’d disappeared without even thanking him. She had left behind a generous purse for his troubles, so either the amnesia was worse than he thought, or that was her way of thanking him for his efforts. He’d considered finding offense at the dismissal, especially since he couldn’t currently go into any town to make use of his payment. It was easier to ignore it. It was always easier to ignore it.

He was compensated for his services, and his debts to the great white asshole were paid off. If he could hold out long enough the heavy purse would be a good start to getting back on the Path. He had stayed in this hideout now for longer than he’d usually settle in one location. However, after too many nights sleeping in the woods while hunting the witch down and the frustration of bandits bothering him while sleeping it was pleasant to have a bed. But now he was being hunted, in the loosest usage of the term, by a small, desperate looking little witcher. Letho sighed before tossing the entrails off to the side. Hunting a deer to feed a gaunt face poorly hidden in the bushes. Geralt would laugh at him.

He scrubbed the majority of the blood off his hands in the tall grass nearby before standing and stretching. He flipped the deer over to drain before leaving the cover of trees to wash his hands and face. It was a beautiful lake, the water deep and fast, the roar of the falls before him made even him feel small. He listened carefully, but his small shadow hadn’t followed him to the water’s edge, so he just refilled his waterskins and headed back slowly.

The ravens had come to know him, three of them gathered around his hunt. They croaked, the bravest fluttering close and nosy. He watched them, waiting patiently for him to leave to devour the feast he left behind for them.

He was Letho of Gulet: kingslayer, errand boy for the white wolf, witch babysitter, caretaker of the local raven population. And, apparently, hungry witchers. He eyed the deer at his feet before deciding he would handle butchering in the caves. He picked it up, his big hand wrapping around the back of the skull, swinging the body up over his shoulder. The neck rested on his big shoulder and he shifted the body, adjusting to ensure any remaining blood would not drip down his legs as he walked.

He glanced down at the entrails as he stepped away and paused. He wasn’t sure how desperate the little moggy was, but he was fairly certain that if he didn’t speak up the ravens wouldn’t get their snack.

“Leave the innards, moggy. There’s enough here for us both.”

He strode away, the trail around the lake was beautiful, but long. He wasn’t certain his shadow followed him until he began the slippery climb to the hidden caves behind the waterfall. He heard a slick and clattering avalanche of rocks, and glanced back to see a small, malnourished slip of a man pressed against the wall, eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t fall.” Letho rumbled. “I don’t think either of us would actually survive that.”

They both watched the impossibly wide waterfall, curving out and around. The roar of water was near deafening to their ears, and likely why his small shadow had stumbled. It was that, or he was more injured than he appeared. Letho frowned, inspecting the slight figure before him. There was no telling, he was covered with dried blood and clearly unwell.

He kept climbing, ducking into the small opening, the deafening roar of the falls nearly immediately silenced into a low rumble. The caves were dark and damp, made momentarily darker by the silhouette of the man behind him. He kept going, passing a few offshoots before the rumble got louder again, a wide cavern lit by slightly refracting the light from through the wall of water crashing before them.

He tossed the deer carcass near the opening, the small cooking fire he had there. He’d stayed in this bolt hole with Yennefer, the long tunnels below the falls connecting Sodden and Brugge made for a useful base. Letho waved the small man over to where Yennefer’s bed had been, a solid pine bough base that she’d sneered at, but eventually acquiesced to. It was damp and chill down here, though the breezes passing through kept it from smelling dank.

After dumping his armor and small pack on his own bed, he set to work butchering the carcass and preparing a stew with the roots and wild greens he’d gathered on his trek this morning. Yennefer had glared at his tiny camp pot, and with yet another dismissive gesture had transformed it into a heavy, useful cauldron. He couldn’t take it with him when he left, but if he was going to attempt to feed up this new, gaunt face, the size would be useful.

He tossed the carcass over the slick ledge, letting the wall of water wash it away. He’d usually drag it back out for the forest animals to devour his leftovers, but feeding the fish seemed a little wiser. The hide held the rest of the meat which he sliced carefully to dry, not looking at his audience before he spoke.

“I suspect you know who I am, or you wouldn’t have followed me so carefully all morning, moggy. Who are you, and why are you hunting me?

**Author's Note:**

> (this was written ages ago? and just ... kinda left in a doc. Tossing this up because... why not? Something nice until I finish precipice.)


End file.
